Lost Souls
by LCFC
Summary: What is dead should stay dead. Sam's POV of AHBL2. Spoilers for this episode and others


**Lost Souls**

_I don't own anything – nothing - sob_

You awaken, suddenly, from your first dreamless sleep in what seems like decades and, instantly, you feel something is wrong.

You can't remember falling into sleep; in fact all you can remember is Dean's frantic voice and a white hot pain in your back which still throbs as you sit up, shouldering out of your jacket and wincing as you stand, the pain making you breathless.

It's cold in the room; there are no sheets on the bed and the mattress is grey and bloodstained; your blood? You shudder, twisting this way and that as you try to see your back in the grimy mirror, wondering what the hell could have made such a scar and how the hell someone managed to patch it up.

You figure you must be in a motel room but that doesn't make a lick of sense because you don't remember getting there. Distantly you remember Cold Oak and the yellow-eyed demon, you remember Andy with his guts hanging out and Ava with her neck all twisted. You remember your mom and you feel sick; hoping, futilely, that it was all a nasty dream; a fucked up vision. You feel cold, not just outside but inside as well. A nasty, creeping, cold. Something is not right; in fact things are all wrong. But you can't put your finger on it and it frustrates you because you are normally so clear headed, so sure of what is happening.

The door opens a crack and you see your brother; you see Dean. He stares at you for a moment and you see something flash in his eyes but you can't ascertain what it is "Sammy" he moves towards you and, suddenly and unexpectantly you are enveloped in a huge bear hug. Something is definitely up – Dean doesn't do hugs – you wince – because as much as you want to stay wrapped in your big brother's arms, your back is hurting and you feel sick with the pain

"Dean" you temper your voice with a smile; trying to reassure, although you don't know why you feel the need to do this

"Sorry" he lets go, reluctantly "Just glad to see you back on your feet again"

He tells you that Bobby patched you up; that Jake escaped; that everything is alright. He persuades you to sit down; to eat; to tell him all about it. You do as you are told – could never say no to Dean – but you leave out the distant things; the bad things that creep into your mind. You still feel cold, you still feel wrong and you want to ask Dean so many questions – but there is no time and you are on your way to Bobby's before the sun goes down.

You can tell by Bobby's face that he is surprised to see you. He looks stunned, not pleased. You pat him on the shoulder and thank him for saving you. He forces a smile and you shudder, the iciness creeping through your veins. Dean and Bobby exchange glances and, all of a sudden, you are alone again, map in hand, looking for signs and wondering what the hell is going on.

When you see Jake – gun in hand – you want to kill him. It is a simple emotion – hate – and one you have felt before but never this strongly. You feel the pain in your arm as Jake hits you; the intense agony in your spine as Jake twisted the knife. Jake stares at you – like he had seen a ghost – like he had seen something unpleasant "You can't be alive" he says and you feel the coldness envelope you, your eyes flicking over to Dean who can't meet your gaze. You stare back at Jake and something close to realisation begins to creep into your mind.

The gun goes off again and again and you reel at the extreme pleasure that it brings. Jake is on his back, begging for mercy and you stare at him, a smile playing about your lips, something you can't help, something you cannot control. You raise the gun and shoot him in the head and your body glows, blood splatters your face and you shoot again. You rock on your heels and the coldness is all encompassing. Bobby passes you and the look on his face is priceless; Dean stops and stares at Jake and then he stares at you. You feel instant shame, wiping the blood from your face onto the back of your hand. You shudder, your brother winces and realisation hurts like a bitch.

Your dad crawled out of hell to help you and the demon is dead. Staring at the corpse you wonder why you aren't jumping in the air, whooping and hollering. You wonder why you aren't happier; ecstatic even. You think, briefly, of Jess on the ceiling and how you swore revenge. Somehow it doesn't seem to matter now; there are more pressing problems and you wonder if it will ever really truly end.

Dean has one year; you stare at him; you look into the eyes of the only person left to you and you want to cry. Tears burn on your lashes; hot like blood and you blink hard to stop them from falling. You can still hear the demon's voice "What if what you brought back isn't 100 pure Sam". You look at Dean – see the pain in his eyes – and it makes you wonder too.

You believe that there is something beyond this life; you have to, it is the only thing that keeps you sane. You saw Molly walk into the light; you saw your dad do the same.

You believe in the soul; how can you not; Dad gave his for Dean and now Dean has given his for you. What scares you – what keeps you awake at nights – is that you don't know what happened to your soul. What happened to your soul in those 12 hours that you were dead? Did you feel the reaper's hand on you? Were you turned away from the light? Did the demon blood that flows, unwittingly, through your veins send you spiralling into hell? You can't remember; you can't recall anything, apart from your brother telling you – all those months ago – that what is dead should stay dead.

As the coldness envelopes you once more – you wish – for once – that Dean had heeded his own advice.


End file.
